Twisted Logic
by fairiel
Summary: Steve has always been in love with Bucky but has no idea how to deal with his feelings. When a too clingy girl hits on him, Bucky, always quick to protect his friend, comes up with a plan of his own: why not pretend they're dating?


Chapter 1

"Look Steve," Natasha said. "I know how much Bucky means to you. You have to do something about it instead of mooning from afar. It's not doing you any good."

Steve sighed. He knew she was right. He knew that after everything they had been through, everyone had noticed the depth of his feelings for Bucky. Everyone, except the concerned party. He seemed to be going on with his life, trying to piece it together, not really the old Bucky anymore, but definitely not the Winter Soldier. He had trouble dealing with his past. To Steve, it did not matter. He loved Bucky, he wanted to help him. But Bucky did not accept any help.

Even now, tonight, he stood on his own, watching the party from afar, as if he did not belong. It was not like everyone had not tried to make him comfortable, especially Natasha and Sam. But Bucky simply did not feel at ease with them. In time, Steve hoped he would relent. With time, all wounds healed. With time and a great deal of love.

"What are you thinking about?" Natasha asked.

Steve took a sip of his champagne. Tony always had the best stuff. Although Steve could not feel the effect of alcohol, he could still appreciate the taste. He made a mental note to ask Stark where he got it.

"You're right, Nat. As always. But I'm not as experienced as you in matters of the heart."

"Don't you think you've waited long enough? You should at least tell him how you feel. What is the risk? That he feels the same way? Is that what terrifies you?"

Natasha was the only one who could speak to Steve that way and not get a sassy retort in return.

"For someone who preaches honesty, you're not very honest with your best friend. But if that's what you want to call him, feel free" she continued, a small smile painted on her face.

Steve turned to look at Bucky, sitting on the sofa, his glass still full, almost expressionless. If he did not know better, he would have said his friend was bored. And that was probably what everybody else thought, Tony, Sam, Rhodey, Maria, Clint, Natasha. No, maybe not Natasha. She was good at reading people, she could probably see through Bucky's mask.

At the bar, Tony beckoned to him in an urgent way.

"If you'll excuse me," Steve said. "Stark needs me, apparently."

"Alright, I'll try to divert Bucky, then," Natasha replied, mischief in her eyes.

She was already on her way when Steve caught her by the arm.

"Don't do anything rash, okay?"

Natasha chuckled.

"I won't tell him, if that's what you're worried about."

Steve frowned, not entirely convinced.

"Come on, Steve, you can trust me," she said, smiling.

"Trust you? That's exactly what I'm worried about, Nat."

Her expression went back to serious in an instant.

"No, I really mean it. I won't tell him anything. It's not my place. Now, go. It's not a good idea to keep the big boss waiting."

"He's not the big boss, Nat."

"I know that," she sighed. "Why must you always be that earnest?"

She walked away, drink in hand, then after a few steps, she turned and seeing he was still standing where he was, she mouthed "Go."

Steve joined Tony and Sam at the bar. Sam was laughing, probably at some joke Tony had made.

"Steve, my man, come here, listen to this," Tony grasped his shoulder. "I was just telling Sam -"

Not really listening, Steve observed Bucky with Nat from the corner of his eye. It surprised him to see his friend's face more relaxed, smiling even. Natasha had a way with men, he had to admit. She could be manipulative, but Steve did not care, as long as it made Bucky smile.

Tony and Sam were laughing. Bucky and Natasha were engaged in discussion. All of a sudden, Steve felt strangely out of place. He checked the time. It was past midnight. Not exactly late, but he felt no longer needed so he bade Tony and Sam goodbye and waved from afar at Bucky and Natasha. His friend had his own set of keys, he could get by on his own.

Steve was making his way to the elevator when someone slipped past him and caught his sleeve.

"Oh no, you can't be leaving. We haven't started with the music yet and I was hoping to maybe get a dance."

He stopped, bewildered. A young woman was standing there, red dress, black hair tied in a pony tail, bird tattoo on the wrist. She was working accounts for Stark Industries, he remembered. What was her name again? Susan? Sharon? No, that wasn't it. Sandy. Her name was Sandy. And apparently, she wanted to dance with him.

Steve shifted on his feet, unsure how to respond, when the music started. She caught his arm, hopping up and down with excitement.

"Come on, dance with me. Just once," she pleaded.

Steve sighed. He could see no polite way to refuse her, so he nodded.

"Only one song," he agreed, already regretting his decision as the young woman gripped him tight and led him back to the party.

She was leaning heavily on him and he wondered if she was drunk. But no, he had not smelled alcohol on her breath when she talked before. Her hands slid down to his butt and squeezed him lightly. He twitched, not used to being touched on what he considered were his private parts. That dance was beginning to get a little too long for his taste.

When it was finally over, Steve disengaged himself from her with a curt "Thanks", but she still clung to his hand. She was placing something in it, a piece of paper. He took it and opened it. Her number.

"Look, Sandy," he said, trying to sound as gentle as he could. "That's a really nice thought, but I don't think now is a good time for me to start seeing someone."

She looked genuinely hurt. What should he do? He did not like having to hurt her feelings, but she did not leave him much of a choice. He could take the paper and pretend he would call her. He did not appreciate having to resort to lies but he could see no way out of this.

He was still pondering the right course of action when he felt a presence near him and cold hand taking the piece of paper, tearing it off.

"Listen, girl, he told you he wasn't interested, so stop bothering him," Bucky said, staring at her with angry eyes.

"Buck, leave her be, she meant no harm," Steve rebuked him.

How typical of Bucky to want to protect him, even when he did not need it.

"Look, Stevie, I was only trying to help," Bucky said, trying to justify himself. "But if you think you can do better, then by all means, be my guest."

Steve turned to the young woman to apologize.

"I'm so sorry, Sandy. Are you alright?"

She raised her face to him, eyes full of tears.

"Does this mean you will go out with me then?" she asked.

"No, he won't," Bucky interjected. "He prefers guys."

Steve glared at Bucky. That was not true. Well, not entirely. But true or not, he sure did not like his sexuality to be discussed in public places. Not that he was not comfortable with it, but he believed in the virtues of privacy. And he wanted to be the one to disclose this kind of information. Who knew what kind of people Tony had invited. What if one of them decided to talk to the press?

"Oh really?" Sandy said. "Then why did he dance so close to me?"

"Because you didn't give him much of a choice and he's a nice guy. He didn't want to hurt your feelings. Hell, he still doesn't want to," Bucky explained, infuriated.

The young woman frowned.

"I don't believe you. It's common knowledge that Bucky Barnes is a little unstable," she said with a shrug, then made her way to the bar where she took another piece of paper from her bag.

"I don't think it worked," Bucky whispered to Steve. "I'm sorry, pal."

"Why do you have to be such a moron, Buck? If you had let me handle it, she would be gone by now," Steve whispered back.

"What if I pretend I was your boyfriend? Bucky suggested. "That would get her off your back."

"Another one of your stupid ideas, I suppose," Steve replied with a sigh.

This was getting out of hand.

"She's back. Quick, kiss me!" Bucky exclaimed.

Steve's heart skipped a beat. Kiss Bucky? How many times had he dreamed of that moment? How often had he wondered how Bucky's lips would taste? Would they be soft or hard? Would it be sweet as feathers, just a little wet, or eager and full of passion? Now that it was within his reach, he did not know what to do with himself. Amidst all of those thoughts, warning signs were flashing red. It was a really bad idea.

Sensing Steve's hesitation, Bucky decided to act. His metal fingers tangled in the collar of Steve's shirt, pulling his friend to him. Their faces were so close, they could feel each other's breaths grazing their skins.

Steve gasped, heart pounding in his chest. He noticed a small scar on Bucky's upper lip that he was sure had not been there a few days before. He wondered how he got it. Was it a fight? An accident? He was dying to know, but not as much as he was dying for their lips to finally meet.

Just as he thought he could not wait any longer, Bucky's lips finally touched his, sending a jolt of electricity right through his spine. His hands twitched, holding on to thin air as he leaned forward into the kiss. Bucky added pressure, sucking on Steve's lower lip, and the other man found it impossible to repress a small whimper of pure bliss. His hands reached up, wrapping around Bucky's neck as if he wanted to maintain the kiss for as long as possible.

All of a sudden it was over. Bucky had released him. Was it a sigh he heard in his friend's mouth or was it only the fruit of his too fertile imagination? Could Bucky - ? But no, it was only a pretense, to get that girl, Sandy, to stop hitting on him.

"You were very convincing," Bucky whispered with a smirk. "That moan, very good idea."

Steve swallowed hard, suddenly aware that his whole body had responded to the kiss with an intensity that would be hard to forget.

"You were not bad either" he managed to reply.

No, not bad at all. He could still feel Bucky's warm mouth on his. He longed to feel it again, and maybe even more, he thought as he felt his cheeks burn and the blood throb in his veins. He stiffened all of a sudden when he realized everybody was staring at them.

"That was really a stupid idea, Buck," he fumed.

"But she's gone!" Bucky replied, not understanding why his friend was so angry.

"Look at them. They all believe we're together," Steve replied, chin pointing to the other side of the room.

Tony was slapping Sam on the shoulder knowingly. Natasha was grinning, her fingers making the V of victory.

"Did Nat put you up to this?" Steve asked.

"Natasha? Why? No, of course not. I was only trying to help you. You can never handle yourself around women."

Steve heaved a deep and loud sigh. That was so Bucky, always acting first and thinking later.

"So, do you have any other of those stupid ideas of yours to get us out of this?" Steve asked.

Tony was already walking to them, yelling "Congrats!"

"Maybe keep the pretense for a week and then say it didn't work out?" Bucky suggested. "What do you think?"

There was no time to think about another solution, so Steve just sighed. Tony was already hugging him, visibly delighted at this unexpected turn of events. He had probably bet a lot of money on whether or not Steve and Bucky would happen. Better not disappoint him. Nor all of them. Amidst all the cheer, Steve felt a great sadness. Sadness and an ache, for he knew that none of this was real, at least not on Bucky's part. That kiss had given him a taste of what happiness could be like, and he did not know how much he could take before his heart would definitely break. One week was not such a long time. He could probably maintain the pretense. But at what cost?

Chapter 2

Next morning, Steve walked in the sun-bathed kitchen of his Brooklyn loft, still a bit sleepy, rubbing his eyes. As always, Bucky was already up, sitting at the bar with a large mug of coffee, in a tank top and sweatpants, hair hastily tied back in a knot. Why did he have to be that attractive so early in the morning? Steve thought, his guts wrenching painfully.

"You look terrible, pal," Bucky said, pushing the Italian coffee maker towards Steve as his friend sat down next to him.

Steve shrugged as he poured himself a cup.

"Sugar?" Bucky asked.

Steve stared at the black drink, shaking his head. He usually preferred his coffee sweetened but today felt like a bitter kind of day. He took a gulp, grimacing at the sharp and unusual taste.

"Uh oh," Bucky said. "You don't look well. Are you still not over my amazing kissing skills?" he continued, smiling playfully.

Steve almost choked on his coffee. The truth was, no, he was not over the kiss. He had spent the night thinking about it, and the more he pondered, the less comfortable he felt about maintaining the pretense.

"Don't make a joke about it," he said with a sigh. "Some things are not funny."

"You know what?" Bucky replied, his smile gone. "Post-serum you is really boring sometimes!"

The criticism in Bucky's voice hurt more than it should have. But his friend was right. He had changed. He supposed it was the natural state of things to change, especially under hard conditions. War, multiple losses, those were reasons enough. But Bucky - the new Bucky - was an enigma. At times, he could be really grumpy, and he would not talk for days, as if he was still trying to process who he was. And other times, it seemed he was back to his old self, brash and full of sarcasm. Apparently, this was one of those days. But why?

Little did Steve know how greatly it amused Bucky to play a trick on Steve's Avengers friends. Since he had been back, he had never felt truly welcome to the team, and he particularly resented Steve's friendship with Tony. Handsome guy, cocky, sure about everything, but in the inside broken and trying to mend himself, Tony reminded Bucky too much of himself, and it felt like Steve had found the perfect replacement in him. Somehow, he wanted to prove to Steve that he was still there, that he counted, that he was more important even. That kiss last night had been a way for him to scream "Look at me, I exist!" It was irrational, and somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he knew it, but he was so used to being the first - if not the only - one that it was the only way he knew how to respond. Pretending to be boyfriends was the only way Bucky could think of to show the world that Steve was his, and that he was not willing to share.

"Look, Buck," Steve said, munching on a danish. "I thought about it and I really think it's a bad idea."

"But why?" Bucky asked. "Everybody thinks we're together anyway, why not go with the flow for a while?"

He was beginning to get angry. What was it? Why was Steve not willing to play along?

"Because it's a lie, Buck. Simple as that."

Ah, honesty, Bucky thought. That was Steve's best virtue but also his biggest flaw.

"Okay, have it your way, for all I care," he said, shrugging. "Tell them the truth. It's fine with me."

And with these words, he got up and walked to the bathroom to get a shower.

Steve stared at him, not believing what he had just heard. It was Bucky's own idea, and now he didn't care about it? He stared at his now cold coffee, not sure he wanted it anymore. It had been nice kissing Bucky yesterday. Hell, it had been more than nice. It had felt amazing! His warm mouth, his firm body pressed against him, the way he had grabbed him by the shirt - Steve knew he craved those things. Would it hurt so much to have them for a few days and then no more? He wished he had not tasted it, for now he could not forget, he could not erase it from his mind.

"Buck," he called, softly. "Wait."

Bucky halted, expectant. What was that sudden thrill he felt deep in his body? No, but it must be the joy of knowing he had just won. He turned just a bit, one eyebrow raised.

"Okay," Steve said weakly, chin trembling. "Let's do it. I wouldn't want to disappoint everybody."

What a lame excuse, he thought. How did Bucky not see through him, and figure him out for the fraud that he was? His feelings were so blatant, how could he be so blind?

Bucky acknowledged him with a slight nod of his head, then quickly turned to hide his smirk.

"You're aware we'll need to practice, aren't you, Stevie?" he asked before disappearing into the bathroom.

Steve swallowed hard. Why did Bucky have to tease him like that? Or was it more of a challenge? Well, if that's what it was, Steve would show him his true mettle. Let it be known that Captain America never refused a challenge, however stupid it was.

He followed Bucky in the bathroom, brushing against his friend's butt as he leant in to pick up his toothbrush.

"What do you think you're doing?" Bucky gasped, indignant.

This was the first time they shared the bathroom. Steve usually gave him more space. And he certainly was never the one to initiate physical contact. Hugs and pats on the back or on the shoulder were Bucky's prerogative. What was going on?

"I'm practicing," Steve answered innocently before brushing his teeth.

Bucky smiled, his whole face brightening as he wrapped an arm around Steve's large shoulders.

"You're a jerk, Stevie," he said, shaking the bigger man affectionately.

"And you're a punk," Steve replied, rubbing Bucky's back in return. "Now, will you let me brush my teeth, or what?"

Bucky winked as he shed off his clothes and stepped into the shower.

When they were both refreshed, Steve checked his phone for messages. It was Sunday, but duty did not wait until Monday. Fortunately, there was no emergency today, only a message from Natasha asking him to come to lunch with Bucky.

"Buck!" Steve called. "Nat's inviting us out for lunch. What shall I say?"

He had hoped there would be no need to pretend that day. He was not sure he was ready yet, but would he ever be? He cared too much for Bucky to pretend anyway. The sight of his naked body in the bathroom just a few minutes earlier had left him with all sorts of cravings, which reminded him that it was exactly for that reason that they never shared the bathroom in the first place. He was sure his body would betray his feelings at some point and he did not really want to know how Bucky would react should he notice the bump in Steve's jeans, especially if they were in company. He silently prayed for Bucky to say they should sit this one out.

"Where does she want to go?" Bucky asked.

"The Italian down on the corner," Steve answered.

"I like the Italian," Bucky said. "Let's do it."

Steve stared down at his phone, not sending the reply immediately.

"What?" Bucky asked, sensing his friend's reluctance. "It's only Natasha, and we agreed to do this."

Steve took a deep breath before tapping on the reply icon.

"Maybe we need to practice some more," Bucky said, running his metal fingers on his friend's bare arm. "Like that."

Goosebumps erupted everywhere as the cold metal grazed Steve's skin. How could Bucky be so chill? How could he not see that each touch was like sweet torture to him?

Steve put his hand on Bucky's fingers, as if to stop him, but the other man seized it instead and held it for a while, his metal thumb stroking the back of it.

"Should we hold hands, do you think?" Bucky asked. "What do guys do nowadays?"

Steve desperately wanted to say yes but was not sure it was the proper response. What did guys do nowadays? Good question. He had no idea at all. All he knew was that he could not bear the softness of Bucky's touch. All he wanted right now was for Bucky to kiss him again. Should he reach for him? Should he take his other hand? Or should he put back in place that lock of hair that was dangling in front of his friend's eyes like a blade of grass caressed by the softest of breeze?

"I don't think that would do," Bucky stated, suddenly releasing his hand.

Steve heaved a loud sigh, realizing he had been holding his breath all the time.

"Just do what feels natural," he finally managed to say. "Do what you would do with a girl."

Ah, but that was exactly the problem. Bucky had been with lots of girls, back in the days, before the war. It seemed like ages ago, and the memories felt hazy. How weird that everything concerning Steve was still crystal clear in his mind, but all the rest felt as intangible as tiny wisps of air. Still, he remembered one thing. He never felt anything for those girls. They had merely been decoys, because he preferred boys but had to maintain the illusion that he liked girls. Had his life been anything than a big pretense, he thought bitterly, turning away from Steve.

"What's wrong, Buck?" the blond man asked.

He could sense his friend retreating back, behind walls that were too high and thick to breach.

"Come on, Buck, talk to me," he said, reaching for him, but Bucky was already out of his grasp and heading outside.

The door slammed hard behind him as he left. He needed to cool off. All his life, he had pretended to be someone he was not. Where was the truth? Who was he really? Bucky Barnes or the Winter Soldier? He was not the Winter Soldier anymore, he was sure of that. He still had nightmares but he knew in his heart he would never kill again if he could avoid it. But who was Bucky Barnes? A boy who pretended he liked girls, who pretended he was strong and fearless and he would win the war on his own, except he had nearly died. Sometimes, he wished he had!

He let the fresh air brush over him, and then he started to run. Around the block. Once. Then twice. He felt his body relax as he picked up his pace. He ran until he could not think anymore, until exhaustion finally caught up with him and all thoughts of his past were gone. He headed back to Steve's loft, out of breath but calmer.

He opened the door. Steve was reading on the sofa. Without a word, the blond man acknowledged Bucky's presence, letting him shower and change.

When Bucky was done, Steve put down his book and said: "I suppose we're not going to the Italian with Nat."

Bucky raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"What do you mean?" he said. "Of course, we're going. Do you know how dangerous it is to disappoint the Black Widow?"

Steve only nodded. One day, Bucky would have to face all his demons instead of running to forget about them. But maybe today was not that day. He just wished he knew how to help his friend. And he hoped that this little game of theirs was not making things worse. Somehow, he had a bad feeling about that.

Chapter 3

Bucky had said that holding hands was probably not right, but he had decided otherwise as soon as he had spotted Natasha already waiting for them. His metal fingers had laced with Steve's immediately, so fast that the blond man wondered what had triggered such a reaction. He was not going to complain, though. The sun was shining, it was beginning to get warm, and Bucky's touch instantly elicited a smile on his face, a smile that was far from being fake. He cocked his head to the side, casually glancing at his friend. Their eyes met briefly and, feeling suddenly ill-at-ease, Steve looked ahead at Natasha, waving at them from afar.

What had made Steve look away, Bucky wondered. He was smiling so bright just seconds before, looking so happy and carefree. Could Steve really fake it, or was he genuinely glad? If there was one thing Bucky knew about his best friend, it was that he was incapable of lying. Had he averted his eyes because he knew Bucky would see the truth in them? And if so, what kind of truth? Bucky already suspected Steve was hiding something from him, but could it be - ?

"Hey, guys!" Natasha called from her seat on the terrace of the small Italian restaurant just on the corner of the street, interrupting the flow of his thoughts.

Steve released Bucky's hand to hug Natasha, then they all sat down at the little round table with a red and white checkered tablecloth. Bucky casually drew his chair closer to Steve's so that their thighs grazed each other. Somehow, Steve felt it was a tad bit too much. They had to be careful. Natasha was a spy and she was used to reading body language better than anyone. She had to buy it, or else they would never hear the end of it.

"So, did you sleep well?" she asked with a wink, after ordering for the three of them spaghetti alle vongole and a bottle of chianti.

Bucky nonchalantly threw an arm around Steve's shoulders before replying: "Oh yes, very well," with a smirk that conveyed so many dirty thoughts that Steve's cheeks began to sting, his mouth suddenly dry at his friend's unspoken suggestion.

"I can see you wasted no time," Natasha chuckled good-heartedly.

How could Bucky lie so easily, Steve wondered. Obviously, it was not his first time faking a date with someone. Then he remembered all those girls his friend liked to show around with. They generally lasted only a few days, and he acted with them exactly as he acted with him. Had he been pretending with them as well? If that was true, what did it mean? He did not have time to dwell on it as the waiter returned with the wine.

"Would you like to taste it, sir?" the waiter asked, holding the bottle in front of him.

"Nat?" Steve inquired, not so keen on male privilege.

"I'll taste it," she said.

The conversation went on for a while, Bucky's hand brushing his shoulder at times. Steve began to relax, leaning into the other man more and more, until their dishes arrived.

When they were done eating, they all eased back into their chairs, and Bucky's hand resumed its place on Steve's shoulder. But from time to time, his fingers would inadvertently slide down Steve's neck and gently play with his hair. Heat overcame Steve and he pretexted the sun beaming too hard to take off his leather jacket, only for Bucky's metal hand to slide under the sleeve of his t-shirt, sending shivers all over his body. Fortunately, that was the moment Natasha chose to go to the bathroom.

"You can take your hand off me now," Steve murmured.

"Why would I?" Bucky whispered back. "She'll be back in a minute. In fact, I was thinking you should be the one to kiss me when she comes back."

Kiss Bucky? Again? Steve did not know if he should be grateful or not.

"But why me?" he asked pitifully.

Bucky frowned at him.

"Because last time I kissed you, so now it's your turn. So far I've done all the work. She has to believe the feeling is mutual," he explained in an undertone. "Prepare yourself. I'm counting to three and you go for it, okay?"

Steve nodded while Bucky counted, feeling weak in the knee. A good thing he was sitting down!

"Now," Bucky ordered, and Steve bit his lips, not quite sure how to proceed.

"What are you waiting for?" Bucky asked, annoyed. "For her to realize it's a game?"

There was no way out of it, Steve realized as he turned his head to the side, towards his friend. They stared at each other, breath after breath, so close that their noses almost touched. Then, Steve tilted his head a little and his lips grazed Bucky's. His hand cupped the other man's cheek as he pressed his mouth further, aware that he lacked practice.

Steve's lips felt warm and soft, and a bit unsure, Bucky realized, heart beating fast. The kiss was by far the sweetest and nicest one he had ever been given. He snaked his hand on Steve's nape, maintaining him there, and felt himself kissing him back. Surprised at his reaction, he suddenly let go of Steve, but the other man, convinced it was all part of the plan, snapped gently at him and their noses bumped into each other.

"You look so cute, both of you," Natasha put in, eyes crinkled as she smiled at them, head resting on her folded hands, elbows on the table.

They had not seen that she was back, so busy they were kissing each other. Bucky's heart was still racing in his chest and he turned away to hide his confusion, grateful that the waiter was back to ask for dessert.

By the time their gelati was served, Bucky had plenty of time to pull himself together. What had happened was nothing, it was only natural to respond to a good kiss, wasn't it? And Steve was a better kisser than he had imagined, for all he said he lacked practice. What flavor or gelato had he taken? Stracciatella? It looked so good he playfully dipped his spoon in the other man's cup.

"Buck! What are you doing?!" Steve reproved, but his eyes betrayed his amusement as he started to do the same with Bucky's lemon gelato.

In his haste, he managed to get some ice-cream on his nose and Bucky gently licked it off with a smile. He's faking, Steve had to remind himself, but he was tempted to kiss him again, this time for good, and fuck all pretense. He loved him, goddammit! He was going for it when someone bumped into his chair, sending him off balance. Another customer, apologizing profusely. The moment was gone, though, and Bucky was making jokes with Natasha. Looking at him so relaxed, laughing hard and loud, it felt like nothing had happened in the morning. Was he pretending to be happy as he was pretending they were together? All those lies were beginning to mess with Steve's head, and the day was not yet over. He wanted nothing more than to go home. He raised his hand, signaling the waiter for the bill.

"Wait," Natasha said. "You're not getting any coffee?"

Bucky came to the rescue, once again.

"We have a great coffee machine at home, I bet even the espresso here is no match for it."

Steve sent him a quick grateful glance. Bucky nodded back imperceptibly. They might not be dating for real, but he knew Steve better than anybody else, and he could tell when his friend had enough with the company.

They paid the bill, hugged Natasha and left hand in hand. When he was sure the restaurant was out of sight, Bucky let go of Steve's hand, almost reluctantly. There was a familiarity about that simple gesture, a sense of home when they were touching each other, that he craved above anything else. It felt like finally all the pieces of the puzzle were fitting all together, and he was complete. But it was all a lie. All his life had always been a lie. And even if Steve cared for him for real, as he had a fleeting feeling his friend did, he did not want to give into it for fear he would ruin everything, as he always did. He started off faster, leaving Steve to trail behind.

When they were finally home, he changed into his sweatpants again and plugged his headphones to his mp3. Exercise was always the best solution to all his problems. There was a small corner in Steve's loft devoted to Bucky's needs, with a yoga mattress. Facing the window, Bucky started to stretch. He had discovered the benefits of yoga shortly after moving in and it never failed to help him focus. He felt his troubles leave his mind as he concentrated on each position. Nothing else mattered but the balance and the feeling of serenity that the exercise gave him.

When he was done, he unplugged his headphones and noticed Steve had settled back in the sofa with his book. No, not his book. His sketchbook. He still drew, Bucky knew.

"Can I see?" he asked as he came by the sofa.

"Sure," Steve replied, handing him the book.

Bucky flipped through pages after pages of studies of his own body in different yoga positions. Not sure what to make of it, he handed the book back to Steve with a shrug.

"That's a lot of drawings of me," he said.

"You're the only model I have," Steve murmured. And the only one I want to draw, he thought.

In truth, Bucky's body fascinated Steve. He wanted to know every muscle, every nook, every scar. Drawing him was a way of touching him, in a sense. Not for real, but in his dreams. In his fantasies.

"So, do you think Nat bought it?" he asked after a while.

"I think she did," Bucky nodded.

Steve frowned. He was not so sure, but Natasha rarely revealed her true feelings or intentions.

"You remember we have training with Sam at Stark Tower tomorrow, don't you?" he continued.

"Yep," Bucky said, leaning back and throwing his legs on the table. "Should be easier to fool."

Suddenly, Steve could not remember why they had to pretend. Things should be as simple as that, Bucky leaning on the sofa next to him, his warmth palpable after exercising, the smell of him a little musky and metallic at the same time. He wanted nothing more but to cuddle close and rest his head on those comfortable pecs. Why couldn't it be real? If only he said the words, maybe it could. But as always, they stayed stuck in his throat and all he could do was sigh and wish and hope maybe Bucky would realize, maybe Bucky would understand.

Chapter 4

Several days passed with the same routine: training with Sam and sometimes Wanda, briefing with Tony. Every day the same pretense, every day the same sweet torture to Steve, especially during briefing. He did not know why, but it seemed to him that Bucky made a point of being particularly "friendly" when Tony was around. He found he could hardly concentrate, because Bucky would keep touching him inappropriately, his hands always lingering on his waist, sometimes going down as far as his butt. It made Steve highly uncomfortable, as he was not used to being touched, and certainly not in public, but he could not really ask Bucky to stop for it was all part of the agreement.

Their training sessions were no better, in particular when it was only them and Sam. Bucky would do everything he could to get his attention - not that he really needed to, just the sight of him stretching was enough for Steve to be intensely aware of how attractive - how desirable - his friend was, and he had to resist the irresistible urge of kissing him whenever Bucky looked at him.

It was all a big competition for Bucky, although he had no idea that Sam was no match for him. Even if he had wanted to, Steve could not have taken his eyes away from his friend. Exercise had always been his biggest excuse to spy on Bucky and watch how his muscles moved. Bucky's body had always fascinated him and he kept on doodling and drawing him, as a way of appropriation, as if putting him on the paper with pencil or ink made him more tangible, made him more reachable. The way the light played on Bucky's back when he lifted weights, the plates of his metal arm slowly shifting into position, his powerful thighs and legs planted like an oak tree. There was something deeply grounded in the way he stood, which denied the inner turmoil that Steve still felt in him, as if he tried to use his body as a way to control his emotions.

Sometimes, even through his concentration, Bucky would become aware of Steve's gaze, and he wondered if that was part of the game, or if there was something more to it. Like the sketchbook full of drawings of him, Bucky had no idea what it meant. Or maybe he did, but he did not want to dwell on it too much, for it would force him to consider his own feelings for his friend. He had been deprived of love too long and could barely remember what it felt like. Could it be that sense of comfort when they hugged? Or the deep unspoken trust that flowed between them? Just the idea that he could have feelings stronger than friendship terrified him, and if he made a show in front of Sam or Tony, it was only for the sake of keeping the pretense going, because it had been his idea and he did not want to admit that maybe it was stupid.

Maybe Steve had been right all along and they should never have done it. Each touch of his hands, however fleeting they were, each pressure of his body, each glance, each kiss felt better than it should have. Still, he could not back down. Admitting defeat now was certainly not Bucky's way, and he would never confess that the challenge was more than he could take. But sometimes, at night, he replayed what happened during the day, wondering what it would feel like if it was real, what it would feel like if Steve and him were really together.

One afternoon, as they were heading out of Stark tower, Steve suddenly caught him by the arm. The urgency in the gesture made Bucky stop. It was not the gentle touch Steve used when they were in company, pretending they were affectionate.

"Buck," the blond man said, face and voice stern. "We need to stop."

Bucky stared at him a long time, trying to understand what had led Steve to such a decision.

"What do you mean, stop?" he asked briskly.

He was more disappointed than he wanted to admit, and a little angry as well. Everything was working as planned. Why stop now?

"Look, I don't know about you, but I'm having a hard time keeping the lie," Steve replied, trying to be as honest as possible without having to reveal his real reasons.

Truth was, Steve was tired and frustrated with the state of events. Each day that passed left him with longings that were harder and harder to ignore, especially at night, when he was lying in bed alone, knowing that Bucky was on the other side of the wall, just as alone, and maybe just as frustrated. The idea that maybe Bucky felt the same but had no way of expressing it was even more difficult to endure. But why could he not simply ask him if that was the case?

"How long must this take?" he continued. "They're my friends, as much as you are. Don't you think they deserve the truth?"

Bucky's sudden glare made him realize he had used the wrong argument, but he still could not understand why his friend wanted to keep the pretense.

"They're your friends," Bucky repeated, his tone as hard and unforgiving as his eyes. "And I'm not, apparently."

"What are you saying?" Steve was beginning to get angry as well. "Of course, you're my friend."

"Oh really? I'm not so sure."

All of a sudden, Bucky stood tall and predatory, in a posture that reminded Steve of the Winter Soldier, all defiance and temerity.

"Why must you be that stubborn?" Steve asked, sighing in annoyance.

"Me, stubborn?" Bucky asked with a smirk. "That's rich, coming from that kid that would not take no for an answer and who tried to enroll four times. Or was it five? Honestly, I lost count when they brainwashed me. I'm sorry if I don't remember all the details of our life before the war."

The criticism was so bitter it left a sour taste in Steve's mouth. He did not want to argue with his best friend, but it seemed impossible to avoid.

"You want to stop?" Bucky continued. "Fine! Have it your way. Tell everyone it's over between us."

And maybe it was, for real. Maybe that so long friendship had come to an end, and it was all his doing. For wanting what he could not have. For forcing Steve to play up with his little scheme. He could not face it. Losing Steve felt like losing everything good he had in this life, and all of a sudden, he was back on the operating table, waking up with that horrible arm, wanting nothing more than to be dead. He stormed out of Stark Tower, leaving Steve standing where he was, with only one thing on his mind, gathering his few belongings and finding a place of his own.

That evening, he realized that even exercise could not solve all his problems, and as he struggled with each yoga position, trying to calm his brain, he could not come to terms with the fact that once again, he had ruined what he had. Why could he not function properly? In the morning, he would leave it all behind. Steve would be better off without him, and the pretense would be over. With him gone, they would all be better off anyway.

He passed Steve's bedroom on his way to bed, and stopping in front of the half-closed door, he hesitated, wanting nothing more than to get in and hold Steve until the pain would stop. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge, then headed to his own room.

Steve turned, only to see Bucky's shadow pass on the other side of the door. His phone suddenly buzzed in the pocket of his jeans. He almost ignored it to go after Bucky, but the phone buzzed again. Two messages at once? It looked urgent. Maybe Avengers related?

When he turned the screen on, he saw it was Natasha.

Nat: "Overheard Bucky and you earlier today."

Nat: "I'm here if you need to talk."

So, now she knew, he thought bitterly.

"There's nothing to talk about. I'm sorry about the deception," he typed back.

She replied almost immediately.

Nat: "Don't be."

Nat: "I think there's still hope."

He stared at the screen. What did she mean?

Nat: "He was genuine at the restaurant."

Why was she doing that? Why was she keeping his hopes high?

"Don't do that, Nat. Don't lie to me."

Nat: "I'm not."

Nat: "I read the two of you like open books."

"Don't over-estimate your skills," he replied.

Sure, Natasha was good at reading people, but Bucky's faking abilities would have fooled anyone.

Nat: "I'm telling you, he was genuine."

Nat: "He was happy."

A spark of hope ignited in Steve's brain.

"Was he?" he typed, fingers trembling.

Nat: "I know what it's like to have your brain taken from you, and having to rebuild yourself."

Nat: "He WAS happy, and he was himself."

Nat: "You're good for him and he knows it."

Nat: "Maybe he needs to understand for himself."

Steve replied in a haste: "What should I do, then?"

Nat: "He's your friend, you know what to do."

Nat: "Good night."

It was so typical of Natasha to leave him hanging there. Of course, he knew what to do. The question was, would he dare?

Chapter 5

That night, just like so many other nights, Steve could hear Bucky tossing and turning in his bed, whimpering like a small child. As he stood in the doorway, not sure if he should wake his friend up or slip under the blanket to comfort him, not sure if Bucky would let him, for when he had those fits he could sometimes be violent, Steve was reminded of a time when he was the one that had to be comforted. After his mother passed away and he was all alone in the world, Bucky had not taken no for an answer, and during the cold winter nights, when Steve came back from work exhausted but would have died before admitting he needed rest, Bucky would tug him in on their only bed and hold him until he was so warm he would fall asleep in his friend's arms.

Of course, they had to because they had no proper heating system then and Steve was so frail he would fall sick whenever there was a draft. And he wondered, had he felt the same about Bucky then as he did now? He could not tell for sure. Even now, he could not be sure if what he felt was friendship or love. Or maybe they were one and the same. But that lust that sometimes overcame him when he looked at Bucky, or when he thought about him, that was new and he did not quite know what to do about it. So he stood in the doorway, not wanting to disturb the other man, but also not wanting to leave him alone.

All those days they had been pretending, he was relieved it was coming to an end. And at the same time, he was disappointed because at one point, he had been sure Bucky was not faking anymore. But that moment had passed and none of them had talked about it. Sure enough, Bucky was a lot harder to talk to than he used to be. He would retreat and be silent, preferring to exercise for hours and then act as if nothing had happened. Steve had no idea how to reach to him during those times. It felt like a wall so high it was impossible to breach. And then, all of a sudden, it was over, and the old joyful and cocky James Barnes was back, as if he had never been gone.

A loud scream echoed in the bedroom as Bucky started from his sleep, sitting up all at once. Steve stepped in and sat next to him, a soothing hand on his friend's shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin, his sweat under his tank top, and every fiber of his body trembling from his nightmare. There was no need to explain anything. Steve knew exactly the content of Bucky's dreams.

"It's going to be alright, Buck," he murmured. "I'm here. Go back to sleep."

He pushed Bucky gently back in the bed and wrapped himself around him, feeling the trembling subside.

"No, no," Bucky was still muttering, not really awake, not yet asleep.

Steve took his hands and laced his fingers with Bucky's.

"You're not going to hurt anyone, I promise, Buck," he said, his voice low and soothing.

Bucky clung to his hands, tightening his grip even harder.

"You promise you won't leave me, Stevie?" he asked in a throaty whisper.

Steve swallowed hard and pressed himself closer to his friend. "Never. I promise."

Reassured, Bucky began to breathe more freely.

"Sleep, my Bucky, sleep."

Steve's voice was barely more than a thin whisper now and it lulled Bucky back to sleep.

The first rays of morning woke up Bucky, as they always did, and here in his bed, Steve was sleeping too. Had he dreamed those words he thought he had heard, had he imagined them? He felt so at peace, he could not remember the last time he had ever felt so calm. Even after yoga, he did not feel that inner quiet that was filling him at the moment. He yawned and sat up, stretching, looking at the blond man curled up on the other side of the bed. It had been so long since they had last slept together. It seemed altogether in another life. Was he still the same Bucky? Did it matter? He had been so confused trying to figure out who he was, trying to keep Steve at all costs as he felt him slipping away, he had lost view of what was important.

Steve stirred and hauled himself on one arm to look at Bucky, sitting cross-legged on the bed, his hair falling messily on his face, smiling.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"Much better, yes," Bucky answered, brushing his hair back lazily.

"I'm glad," Steve said, and then got out of bed.

"Stevie -" Bucky hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Steve answered, pausing on his way out. "What is it?"

"Do you love me?" Bucky finally asked, getting up to stand in front of his friend.

What sort of question was that? Steve felt a pang in his chest, all his insides tearing up as he feared he would reveal too much of his feelings. But could he lie anymore? The answer was no, he could not. Fortunately, Bucky had not inquired if he was in love with him. The difference was not blatant but still, it was there.

"Of course, Buck, I love you. You're my friend."

Bucky pursed his lips, obviously not satisfied with the answer.

"Why do you want to know?" Steve continued.

"Because at times, it felt like you were not pretending. Hell, it felt as if none of us were pretending. And I tried not to think about it, because you're my friend, that's what you are, but everything feels so right and so in place and so how it should be. So is it friendship or is it love? Do friends feel jealous because the other one has a new friend? Because let me tell you, I'm so jealous of Tony and Sam, and even Natasha sometimes!" Bucky blurted the words so fast that Steve was not sure he was hearing well. "And all I could think was, I want you, I want you, and I want you to want me too, but this is so twisted, how could you want me back, I don't even know what I want from you! And you, you put up with me and my lame idea because you're such a good guy, and ugh, why would you even do that? Why would you put up with the lies if you didn't feel anything for me? So I hoped, I didn't know what I was hoping for, to tell you the truth, because I didn't want to admit that what I felt for you was love. And I wished. And then last night, I heard you say those words, but I don't know, maybe I dreamt them. Tell me it wasn't a dream because I feel like such a fool right now with you gaping at me."

Steve had listened to the whole speech, not sure if he was hearing well. And yes, he was gaping, because Bucky was somehow confessing his love, and it was so unexpected, and all of a sudden, Steve realized there would be no need to tell the others they had broken up, because they could be together for real. A big stupid smile formed on his lips but no sound would come out of his throat.

"Say something, instead of smiling like an idiot!" Bucky exclaimed, unnerved.

"It's just -" Steve stammered, having trouble to find his words. "Wow, I just - didn't expect - such a downpour - are you sure?" he finally asked, suddenly certain that it was too good to be true.

"If I'm sure?" Bucky asked back, frowning. "Of course not, I'm not sure. That's why I'm asking you, dumbass."

Steve stared at his feet, embarrassed. He had no idea what Bucky was expecting of him. Even if he admitted his feelings for his friend, how did it help the situation?

"Look, the only way I see out of this is we kiss again, but this time like we mean it, alright?" Bucky suggested.

Well, that should not be too hard, Steve thought, at least on his part. He nodded his agreement eagerly, leaning forward just a little as Bucky's hands cupped his cheeks, thumb grazing his lips. His smile faded as he realized the intensity of Bucky's gaze. They looked at each other for the longest time, trying to decipher the feelings in their eyes, hearts racing in their chests. Then, Bucky closed the gap between them and their mouths locked in the sweetest of kisses. Steve closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around Bucky's waist while the other man's hands snaked behind his neck. It felt so good, he almost whimpered in pleasure, and when Bucky finally released his mouth, Steve went back at him, pecking his lips with feather-like kisses, each touch still not enough. His hands roamed up Bucky's back, his mouth moved along his jaw to his neck until he heard a distinct moan. Then, Bucky's hands were raising his face and their foreheads touched as they smiled at each other.

"Oh god," Bucky managed. "I want -"

He could not finish his sentence. He had to kiss Steve again. It felt like finally coming home, and all his walls were finally down and he had no wish to rebuild them again. It was so simple and true and real. It was like at long last he knew what to do. They could be friends, they could be lovers, what did it matter? The only thing that mattered was that Steve was melting in his arms and the sensation was exhilarating. He let go of Steve, laughing, and the other man buried his face in his shoulder as they hugged.

"I can't believe it took me so long to finally work it out," Bucky said softly when he was done laughing. "I feel so light."

"I haven't heard you laugh like that in a long time," Steve replied. "You sound truly happy."

The shadow of a doubt darkened his eyes as he stared at Bucky. Could he still be faking? But no, his eyes were crinkling and the smile on his lips was pure delight. Could anyone be faking this?

"I love you, Buck. I hope you know that," he said, finally able to say it aloud.

"I thought so," Bucky murmured, his expression serious again.

"You don't have to say it back, you know," Steve continued.

Bucky nodded slightly before closing his eyes. When he opened them again, everything was clear and he could finally put words on his feelings.

"I love you, Stevie."


End file.
